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of it. We swore to each other that the first to hear should be Lord Asriel himself.”
    “Then tell me what you can. Don’t keep me in the dark.”
    “We found our way into the Clouded Mountain,” said Baruch, and at once went on: “I’m sorry; we use these terms too easily. It’s sometimes called the Chariot. It’s not fixed, you see; it moves from place to place. Wherever it goes, there is the heart of the Kingdom, his citadel, his palace. When the Authority was young, it wasn’t surrounded by clouds, but as time passed, he gathered them around him more and more thickly. No one has seen the summit for thousands of years. So his citadel is known now as the Clouded Mountain.”
    “What did you find there?”
    “The Authority himself dwells in a chamber at the heart of the Mountain. We couldn’t get close, although we saw him. His power—”
    “He has delegated much of his power,” Balthamos interrupted, “to Metatron. You’ve seen what he’s like. We escaped from him before, and now he’s seen us again, and what is more, he’s seen you, and he’s seen the knife. I did say—”
    “Balthamos,” said Baruch gently, “don’t chide Will. We need his help, and he can’t be blamed for not knowing what it took us so long to find out.”
    Balthamos looked away.
    Will said, “So you’re not going to tell me this secret of yours? All right. Tell me this, instead: what happens when we die?”
    Balthamos looked back, in surprise.
    Baruch said, “Well, there is a world of the dead. Where it is, and what happens there, no one knows. My ghost, thanks to Balthamos, never went there; I am what was once the ghost of Baruch. The world of the dead is just dark to us.”
    “It is a prison camp,” said Balthamos. “The Authority established it in the early ages. Why do you want to know? You will see it in time.”
    “My father has just died, that’s why. He would have told me all he knew, if he hadn’t been killed. You say it’s a world—do you mean a world like this one, another universe?”
    Balthamos looked at Baruch, who shrugged.
    “And what happens in the world of the dead?” Will went on.
    “It’s impossible to say,” said Baruch. “Everything about it is secret. Even the churches don’t know; they tell their believers that they’ll live in Heaven, but that’s a lie. If people really knew . . .”
    “And my father’s ghost has gone there.”
    “Without a doubt, and so have the countless millions who died before him.”
    Will found his imagination trembling.
    “And why didn’t you go directly to Lord Asriel with your great secret, whatever it is,” he said, “instead of looking for me?”
    “We were not sure,” said Balthamos, “that he would believe us unless we brought him proof of our good intentions. Two angels of low rank, among all the powers he is dealing with—why should he take us seriously? But if we could bring him the knife and its bearer, he might listen. The knife is a potent weapon, and Lord Asriel would be glad to have you on his side.”
    “Well, I’m sorry,” said Will, “but that sounds feeble to me. If you had any confidence in your secret, you wouldn’t need an excuse to see Lord Asriel.”
    “There’s another reason,” said Baruch. “We knew that Metatron would be pursuing us, and we wanted to make sure the knife didn’t fall into his hands. If we could persuade you to come to Lord Asriel first, then at least—”
    “Oh, no, that’s not going to happen,” said Will. “You’re making it
harder
for me to reach Lyra, not easier. She’s the most important thing, and you’re forgetting her completely. Well, I’m not. Why don’t you just go to Lord Asriel and leave me alone?
Make
him listen. You could fly to him much more quickly than I can walk, and I’m going to find Lyra first, come what may. Just do that. Just go. Just leave me.”
    “But you need me,” said Balthamos stiffly, “because I can pretend to be your dæmon, and in Lyra’s world